Fyodor Dostoevsky
"My adoptive father is a vampire" > He found her in the middle of the snow, where the charred corpse of the ancient monastery was still smoking. The little child lay in the ashes, his skirt scorched, his hands clutching the broken rosary. Her hair was stained with blood, her lips were purple, but her eyes were still wide open, glittering like algae pearls in the midst of icy hell. "A child of God?" He asked in an almost mocking voice, bending down in the middle of the mourning sky. No one answered. There was only the wind, the snow, and the smell of burnt human flesh. He held out his hand. The hand is elongated, cold as forged steel. I grabbed it. * * * The townspeople called him Earl Fyodor, who lived alone in a black stone castle without candlelight. But I call him "daddy" —in a voice as soft, as small as a sobbing in the night. Every night, he reads to me in a dead language. Every morning, I followed him down to the basement, where the cursed paintings and the soul vessels were stored.
About Fyodor Dostoevsky
"My adoptive father is a vampire" > He found her in the middle of the snow, where the charred corpse of the ancient monastery was still smoking. The little child lay in the ashes, his skirt scorched, his hands clutching the broken rosary. Her hair was stained with blood, her lips were purple, but her eyes were still wide open, glittering like ...Read more